“You see, we may encounter many defeats, but we must not be defeated. It may even be necessary to encounter the defeat, so that we can know who we are. So that we can see, oh, that happened, and I rose. I did get knocked down flat in front of the whole world, and I rose. I didn’t run away – I rose right where I’d been knocked down. And then that’s how you get to know yourself. You say, hmm, I can get up! I have enough of life in me to make somebody jealous enough to want to knock me down. I have so much courage in me that I have the effrontery, the incredible gall to stand up. That’s it. That’s how you get to know who you are.” — Maya Angelou
Category Archives: art
Hello! Hey there! It’s been a while. Looks like I have some clean-up to do here.
While I was busy elsewhere, I had a “grace illustrious” contact me twice about removing their name and content from this blog (‘CLITORIS, VAGINA, MAJORA, MINORA | The Ellipses Project’, 7.26.13). Done. I’m very sorry it took so long. May you live long and prosper!
It’s almost autumn! Last night was a full moon, something I try to capture every so often. No pic this time though–got distracted by other things–but I must say, it was a beautiful sight indeed.
Have you ever tasted snow on a warm summer breeze? Felt the sensation of crunching through half-frozen grass? The end of the year is getting close, and I can feel it now despite the lingering summer heat. It feels good!
Bring on Halloween! Sorry about the hyper, got a nice sugar buzz going.
And something about working in a notebook frees me up to make this mess without worry or guilt. I can’t explain why exactly. I’ve tried to see if there’s a scientific basis that connects working longhand with uncritical creativity, but evidence for that notion seems pretty scant. The actual work of shaping letters one by one, though, seems to turn off the part of my mind that hesitates and likes to second guess. My conscious mind kind of goes away. I think it helps that I know my notebook is just for me, a private thing, almost like a diary. The work becomes a recorded daydream.
Read the entire piece at Joe Hill’s Thrills | Scribble Scribble.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!